


Some Days You Tell Yourself

by pbrabbits



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Mental Instability, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Second Person, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbrabbits/pseuds/pbrabbits
Summary: At the Palais Garnier, it's just another workday, but your troubles are distracting you... Self-Insert/Reader. Setting is Leroux-based opera house, this Erik is far more sinister than canon. Darkphic.





	Some Days You Tell Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This not only delves into noncon, but a deteriorating mental state, so heads-up.

Fourteen, fourteen...the number is on your mind.

At the opera house, you're not a dancer or chorus member, sometimes you help the girls with their makeup, but you're there to do the jobs anyone else could do.  
You're alone in Paris, holding off on your ambitions, you need the money,  
You're recalling this today because  
It doesn't add up.

If you're near the stage at the right hours, you'll hear the divas, the workers, ballerinas, but closer to the storage rooms; it's quiet. People don't wander around there unless they have to, as you have to this morning. You're supposed to move the costumes in the storage rooms to the tables backstage. You said you could carry the costumes yourself, so they handed you the rolling bin, and they didn't ask anyone to help you.

The bin's wheels go _drrrrrrrrrrrrrrr_ as you come down the hall. The click of your heel adds to the noise around you,  
but that'll disappear soon.  
The hall ahead feels as long as the hall behind you, empty, you're just pushing a bin.  
The bin has a handle you're supposed to hold onto, but you don't bother.

You're thinking back to the night before; you were in bed, trying to close your eyes.  
You did actually fall asleep, but your dreams were far too…you might as well have been awake.  
And it shows.  
What was your dream about?  
You're having trouble remembering...no you do remember.  
No.  
No, you do remember, it started in the auditorium, you were onstage, all alone.  
There was sand scattered on the floor. You thought you could just step over it, but the grit under your boot...You thought it best to stop walking.  
You got down to your knees, to sit still, in the middle of the stage.  
Then a train passed you. A whole train! It went through the auditorium, and it was filled with people, and they were watching you.  
When it went away, another train came by!  
The stage's wings weren't very far from you, and they led backstage, you could have gotten up, hidden yourself from these people. But the sand was so gritty; you didn't want to step on it again.  
But the trains…

Your locks were loose; you wanted to hide behind them.  
You imagined getting up, then you imagined your hair being yanked, the weight of gravity holding you down, pressing on your chest, you thought about being pressed against the sand so the grains could scratch your eyes.  
But that would only happen if you tried to run.  
Run from what?  
It.  
The stage?  
No.

_Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._  
You see the bronze paint on the walls, the opera house halls, the bin's wheels are rolling, you're headed for the auditorium, you're not perched on that stage anymore.  
You hear click clack click clack again.

Backstage, the lamps cast an amber hue over everyone, and the bustle keeps the air warm. You stop your bin for the stagehands, and they turn to greet you, you say your hellos and they go. From the sidelines you can see the stage; the performers are spinning in their costumes, ready to rehearse. Everyone is chatting away, you're just bringing in clothes.  
You hear a hearty laugh from somewhere, maybe up above. You dump the bin's content onto a folding table. You try your best, but,  
The other helpers gather round to help you, because the outfits are ancient and wrinkled, all tangled up, no one could do it alone...  
When you're a little distracted, you catch the tail end of a joke. You turn from the table to get the rest of it, but when you see one of the helpers, she's shaking.

But it's so warm in here.

"What is it?", you ask. She has her brows furrowed at a sight before you.  
You try to follow her gaze, but you notice everyone else first, they've all stopped in their tracks, what is it?  
You take a couple steps forward, away from the long table, everyone's still silent, frozen, then you see it;  
Downstage, spreading over the floor; a pool of blood.

You recall an afternoon, when you discovered a leak in your flat, first you spotted the water on the floor, then you saw the drip—  
You look up and hear a gasp—drops of blood fall from the rafters and add to the pool below.

"What is that?" you hear behind you, a couple of stagehands rush to the spot. There was a worker who was already there, but she's silent, pointing up at the rafters, her fingers are shaking, her arms, shoulders, they're all shaking.

That's all you can bear.

You walk away from there, past the people packing in, they're calling out, "What's happened! What's happened!" You don't need to know, you tell yourself you have no idea what's happened.  
Suddenly, that sand reappears on the floor, you're remembering the rest of your dream...you were sitting on the stage, you saw the last train leave. Then you heard a thud, it sounded like it came from backstage.  
But you weren't frightened, you knew, workers drop things all the time.  
Then you heard another thud.  
Your eyes were on the empty seats before you, you imagined a drunk worker backstage because it continued. One after another, you didn't dare look to your side, your hands found your dress fabric and squeezed.

_Click clack click clack click clack,_ your eyelids are heavy. You hear several men walking past you, they're headed for the auditorium, you're going toward the doors. All you need is a good night's rest.  
You didn't see anything.  
What?  
Just go home.  
I know.

 _Click clack click clack,_ the doors are very close, the janitorial staff is rushing about, discussing who's next…  
What? But this has never happened before!

I saw blood.  
It might have been paint, the workers have access to plenty of paint you know, don't fall for their tricks!  
Okay.

You reach the door to the outside, it's a heavy piece of work, you know that. You raise your hands, but you're in the foyer now, the light is so harsh and white, it can't keep anything hidden; you see your hands are bruised. A purple is running through your knuckles, along with maroon, and a green tint on the side of your palms.  
You ignore that, you grasp the handle and a current rushes through your fingers, the shock makes you gasp and you quickly release your hand.  
You step away from the door and stare at it.  
You think; when you reach your bed, you will not get a good night's rest.  
It's just not possible, anymore.

Workers are scattered all around, but they're so far.  
You know another way out.  
You head back to where you came from.

There's a stream of workers coming from the auditorium, people you know, scurrying, a crowd, open mouths, friends—  
You don't care anymore.  
You go through the doors and head backstage; you think no one is there.  
But two stagehands come from the dark, and they immediately spot you.  
"What are you doing?"  
"I'm going down."  
"Right now? I don't think you should,"  
"I just forgot my gloves."  
"Well, you don't need them, right?"  
"It's cold out."  
"Borrow someone's."  
"I'll be quick—"  
"NOW'S NOT A GOOD TIME!"  
You back away; he's serious.  
His pal wants to walk away, but he won't, if you do,  
but you can't.  
"Nevermind." You point your feet in another direction, you start, he sees that and they pass you. Then they disappear.  
You watched them go, and now you'll continue on your way...

You arrive at the door and reach for its handle. But the ache in your hand! The joints are cracked, it's causing the pain to curl around each finger—but you don't back away. You tighten your grip and open the door.

You go down to the first cellar.

You find the staircase. The wall lamps are running low, the air is turning red, you feel nothing.  
Long ago, life seemed so simple.  
But it's simple now.  
Is it?  
_Click clack click clack click clack,_  
I saw something I shouldn't have.

The air is getting humid.  
You shake your head a little, "What did you see?" You remember a commissioner asking your friend, you were close enough to hear, too far away to be a part of the conversation.  
Not a single worker knows what you saw; you were alone onstage, there was scattered sand on the floor, a shadow loomed over you. You fell to your knees, you were wearing white, your eyes were wide and you wondered, what happened?  
Why were you there?  
I was just, I was just doing my job…

Months ago, a ballerina lost her bracelet. It was operculum and silver; a gift from her patron. A couple nights after that, you stayed late to play catch-up. You took a moment to wander the stage, and you found it! The girl was so happy, she kissed both of your cheeks without thinking! You considered how often items went missing, you thought you could stay late some days, search the stage, you made it your job to.

One night, you were onstage again. The stagehands had gone home, so the rafters were dark, but everything below was well-lit. You were scanning the floor with your neck bent, eyes down. Then you saw sand. It was scattered on the floor and formed a trail. You walked along it until you came across a pile of it.  
It took you a moment, but eventually you saw the shadow over the sand and the stage, and you backed away, but it wouldn't help!  
Up above, a dead man hung from the rafters.

No, this is the dream you had.

No, I only started dreaming after that night, that night, I remember so clearly!  
You're lying to yourself.  
I'm not! I saw the stagehand clearly! The rope holding him was practically a thread. It was wrapped around his throat and cut into his skin, I remember because blood was raining from his corpse,  
And I just sat there, I couldn't call for help, or scream. I just, I thought I was braver than that, but the sight of him, was, too much.

 _Click clack click clack,_ you've been heading down a while, but there's plenty left to go. You look around; you're in the second cellar.  
You remember what happened next.

Perched on the stage, unable to make a sound, an arm shot up from the ground.

When you were eight, you saw a puppet show at a local fair. One man and his two hands were the actors. There were many characters, but you remember the bird and the flower.  
It started with the bird flying through the mini-stage; she was looking for her shoes. She said she looked everywhere, but she hadn't looked through the beach! So she flew over the ocean and kept her eyes open. Then the flower appeared. It started off a little hidden, but then it shot up from the ground, grabbed the bird's head, and dragged her down to the ocean floor! Then it swallowed her whole.  
Right before the bird was eaten, you got a glimpse of her in the flower's clutches, and you'd remember her like that.

The arm grabbed your leg, you gasped as your whole body was seized and you went down below.  
Your spine curved so you could fit, it was dark, and there was pressure digging into your shoulders and back.  
Then a cloth pressed over your face, it was sickeningly sweet! You thought it was poison, but,  
You were dragged by the waist, barely conscious, down many flights of steps, you tried to peer through the air, but the dark concealed everything.  
An awful smell began to permeate, you were shivering, it was humid. Your lips would press, but nothing came out.  
But your legs were working, you hadn't realized because the creature was dragging you. So you told yourself to stop walking, you thought you would fall on the creature, but its arms shoved you forward and you took a great fall. You landed on the steps, but were too drowsy to realize. It took it's time to reach you, and when it did, it rammed its heel into your side.

And you just laid there.

It did it again, but this time, your nerves were working.  
You felt it now, the pain radiating from your side, you could feel the warmth from the blood, spreading under your skin.  
You couldn't take another jab.  
So you got to your feet and hurried down the steps. Nothing stopped you. It was when you reached the end of the stairs that you had to stop. There was nothing but stone floor, dim gas lamps on the wall, and up ahead, a lake. You didn't know where to go.  
Your legs were tired, and you thought about the creature behind you.  
But your head was in a fog.

 _Click._ You're entering the fourth cellar now; you'll be there soon.

You made your way to the lake, you had to hurry, but you,  
You just reached the brink, then the rag came over your features, you would've screamed, but the creature pulled it so tightly, you clawed at your mouth because it was too repulsive, the fumes were too repulsive.  
Your body was dragged, you don't remember much between then and the next room.  
The next room...

You were just in the Opera House, so how,  
The air was dark blue and bitter cold. You woke up half-buried in sand, the cloth around your face was gone, and you were next to a grand tree.  
You raised your head, in the little light, you saw yourself multiplied. You looked around and there you were! There they were! At so many angles, on their knees, shivering.  
You extended your hand, hoping to reach them, but then you saw the blood on their shoulders, and as you turned; the blood on their backs! Was it, your torso ached, so you loosened your corset and felt the skin there, but nothing was split or bleeding...You couldn't figure it out, so you crawled to them.  
Then your fingers met the glass, and the cold burned your fingertips. Your reflections frowned at you.  
You realized...but you were torn, so you covered your hand with your sleeves, and you pressed along your reflections, trying to make sense of everything…

But the crawling exhausted you, especially on the sand. So you leaned your back against the glass, and you planned to rest.  
Your head was back and facing upward, towards the sky.  
Then you spotted a thin strand, hanging from the tree—  
It was a noose.  
There was a second before your hand came over your mouth, you whimpered and pressed harder.  
What were you suppose to do?  
You got up and swayed, you pressed against the glass to stand, the weight on your legs...your body was shaking. You had to find a way out, but your teeth chattered away, you could barely, but then suddenly, you didn't care.  
You hit your fist against the glass and you, you didn't care.  
You lost touch with your limbs; you bashed your hands against the glass, again and again, they were just instruments designed to break glass, who would care if you broke them?  
And it was loud, you started calling for help, but you don't remember the words you said.  
You were getting light-headed, and the mirrors didn't break! But a light turned on.

 _Click clack click clack click clack._ The steps you're heading down finish and turn into the stone floor. The lights are dim, the air is wet; you've reached the fifth cellar. If you keep walking, you'll come across the lake,  
You know it isn't safe to wander, but you've lost all reason to fear…

The sun rose in the chamber. Its rays were warm and kissed your skin.  
You finally saw the ground, the tree, your image, all at once. Everyone stopped shivering. Your palm against the mirror kept you standing, but gave in when you felt the warmth beneath your boots. You slid down, back into the sand, and you nestled there for warmth...

Until you felt the grains searing, and the air turned a rusty hue. It was so sudden, but the enclosure became a desert! The warmth now burned your flesh, and you wanted to flee, but there was nothing untouched by the blazing sun!

And then came the smell of death.

You were still.  
You thought you had nothing left in you,  
But you raised your head just enough to see it; a cloaked figure approaching, with a lasso...  
And the lasso was thin, like thread.  
You took a breath of hot air and grabbed at the sand, then at the mirrors, you made your way toward the figure. You hadn't realized it then, but when you clasped your hands together and fell before its feet, you were just begging to live.  
Up close, under the sun, you should have seen its unhappiness! But you were dying, and its mask concealed every marker of man.

You kept your face down in the sand, the moments that passed…you eventually looked up, but the figure was gone. Your arms pushed you up, you looked around, sweat was coming down, but you were shaking again.  
The light suddenly went out, you wiped your forehead, there wasn't a sound, but the world lost all its color, and it was dark again. The air cooled, so did the ground, but you weren't sure why, or if it would last.

 _Click clack, click clack, click clack._ You're walking in circles, the air is damp, you're next to the lake, you're in the fifth cellar. You're not sure what you're waiting for...

The blue skies never returned, nor did the bitter cold, or the sun. The air kept cool and dark and grey…  
You had just gotten to your knees when you heard the footsteps, it was harder to see, but it was approaching. Then the creature stood before you. Did you even look up? You don't recall, exactly, because suddenly, it wasn't standing.

A bony palm splayed on your shoulder, and its body weighed down on you, you had to lie back.  
You had no energy to question or understand. But you saw a hand press into the sand; it was gloved. Then a finger traced a path from your neck to your chin, and it tilted your face, you nearly gasped when you felt its breath. And then, you felt its callused skin press against your lips. You closed your eyes, to focus on the cool air...

Then your frock was pulled from you, and you weren't sure of anything.

Then the two lips pushed harder on yours, you opened your eyes, but it was so dark. Its lips moved to your neck, but the collar of your shirt was in the way, there was so much in the way.  
You heard the sand stir and you felt its weight on your hips. You started feeling tugs at your chest and you had to lift yourself; you got colder.

 _Clack._ You stop walking. You look at the lake now, the waters are still. On the surface, it reflects the lights beautifully, they're dim and running out, but they're beautiful. It's down below, that's where the bodies are.  
It's where you would have gone, if,  
But,  
You,  
I just delayed everything.

You felt the sand against your skin. Your arms were frantic, they wanted to pull you up, but they stopped when they felt your dress. You looked beside yourself; all of your garments were spread across the sand. The air was dense and tried to hide it from you, but you knew. You felt the creature's hands on your bare arms, then on your bare hips. The ground beneath you was shifting; it scratched you. You realized you were pushing on your heels, trying to get up, run to the edge of the chamber...

But the creature tangled its fingers in your hair and brutally twisted it. It forced your head back and pulled your body back to it.  
You felt its mouth kiss the dip between your neck and shoulders, then it sucked and sucked until the spot was sore.  
It brought its mouth to your breasts to do the same.  
You couldn't hold yourself up, the creature kept you there with its terrible strength, and you just, let it.

Then a hardness pressed against you.  
You froze. The weight lifted off of you, and at that moment you had hoped for strength, but the world around you was just an abyss…  
Your legs were pushed apart, but the brush of dead lips calmed you, they were against your thighs, then they traveled to your center. Your breath hitched. Those lips pressed into you, you felt a kiss, then a tongue. Nails raked over your skin. It pressed its tongue deeper until it was inside, coming in and out, and you almost,  
Then the fill was replaced with fingers. They were being worked into you, as the other hand rubbed, and you made a sound, but then your hand found the fabric beside you, and you squeezed it until it was over.  
Then everything left you again, and for a moment, your breathing was loud and clear.

You almost lifted yourself up, but an arm wrapped around your waist, and you felt the sleeves of an evening jacket, it seemed so out of place…  
It dragged you closer, you felt the creature's bare skin, then it pushed your legs apart.  
The dead skin brushed your leg, just a limb, and, you knew what else, but,  
Your eyes went to a spot in the dark—you were thinking of so many things, but a sharpness penetrated you and your thoughts, you tried to go back to thinking, but the fullness, the aching, was too much.

You felt the thrusts and the friction inside of you, building. The short moments between relieved you, but messed with your head.  
The sand beneath you began shifting, the creature was groaning.  
You couldn't help it when your hips pushed against the man, and he drove himself deeper inside.  
You felt his nails dig into your flesh, and you couldn't stop him, so he just kept going.

That was only the first night.

You remember; a fortnight of this.

You discovered later, the first time, he thought you saw more than a dead body, he thought you saw him.  
But you,  
So when he captured you, he expected you to use the rope by the tree.  
But you couldn't, you decided to beg, so he granted you mercy.  
Then he let you go, and you thought you could forget.  
But he found reasons to fear you, he'd watch you, in case you said a word, then he'd wait until you had to check the stage, in the late hours when most workers had left…  
He'd throw you in the chamber, to see if he could rid himself of you.  
Or he thought, you'd rid yourself of him—but you couldn't, you didn't have it in you, not then,

The third night, you said you would tell the whole world about him, you don't know what possessed you. But he took your body in his hands and shook you horribly, then he told you exactly why you couldn't.  
And you swore to yourself, not to him, you would never tell.  
You thought you could leave, leave the opera house, the city, the country, but he grabbed you by your hair one night and told you exactly what would happen then.

Some nights, the chambers were still with the blood of stagehands, workers, friends, and one night, you remember clearly, you two weren't alone.

I found a loophole, but it's useless.

You're looking over the lake still, the numbers down there are, too many to wrap your head around,  
You hear nothing anymore, enough time has passed.  
A familiar scent comes to you, and a cloth spreads over your lips, your limbs react on their own; your arm yanks the rag from your features.  
But you're not quick enough.  
You stumble backward, and he grabs onto your body, his hands are wet, cold, you can't see it, but you know there's a very thin rope in his hand.  
Yes, that's there for you…  
He's capable, just tell him. When you arrive at the chamber, another one will be there,  
Or at home, when you can't sleep.  
There's a beam that runs beneath the ceiling, just use it.  
During work hours, when you can't focus on anything else, the rafters are there.  
You can do it, you can do it.  
You're placed in the chamber, it's warm, sandy, and soon it won't be.

Decide soon, please.


End file.
